Gone With The Jedi
by Who'sObsessed10
Summary: With the Force literally driving Gwyn insane, she struggles to unravel a confounding mystery: who is the real Revan? And why isn't the Star Wars universe the same as it is in the game? All she really knows is that if Revan doesn't defeat Malak in time, no one will survive. LSF/Carth, DSM/Bastilla.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I guess I actually do own most of this chapter. Gwyn and Jarik are mine, but anything Star Wars-y isn't.

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

"Karath!"

"Yes, Lord Malak?"

"That boy's device. Our...guest has been telling me a very interesting story about it. I'd like to see if she was telling the truth."

"Of course, Lord Malak. What do you want me to do?"

"Send three of my more competent apprentices to me. There's someone I want them to kill."

* * *

It was a normal Tuesday. Gwyn was hurrying through the halls of Ashton High with her books clutched to her chest and her head down. She was running late, and she _couldn't_ be late to class again. Her dad was her next teacher and he would point out her tardiness to the entire class. She would rather die than let that happen.

Suddenly, a deafening crack rang through the noisy corridor. Somewhere further down the hall, there was a bright flash of light.

For a moment everyone was still, unsure of what it was or what to do. Then someone screamed and the spell was broken. The hallway turned to chaos. People tried to run away from where the light had been, but the people behind them blocked the way. Teachers were coming out of the classrooms, trying to settle the students down. Mr. Taylor, shoved his way though the crowd, white as a sheet and sprinting away from where the light had been. Seeing one of her favorite teachers that terrified scared Gwyn more than the screaming. She froze, staring wide-eyed down the hall.

People buffeted against her as they tried to run away, pushing her this way and that. The screams were deafening now, and Gwyn could smell the nervous sweat of the crowd around her. The throng was barely moving, probably because only a few people at a time could enter the stairs at the end of the hall.

The hall _was_ clearing, though. And there were fewer screams now. Gwyn wished she didn't know why, wished she could make her feet move and run toward the stairs while screaming hysterically. Her body wouldn't let her, though. Instead, she shook as she stared at the three robed figures cutting their way through her fellow students. They cut through the stragglers like a hot knife through butter, silencing everyone they passed in the hall.

They were using lightsabers. Glowing red double-bladed lightsabers. They were Sith. Sith, in Gwyn's high school.

And they were getting closer. They were less than twenty feet away, and there were barely a dozen people left in between her and them and they were _getting closer_.

Gwyn was going to die. If she hadn't been so terrified, she might've laughed at the irony. At least now she wouldn't be late to class.

One of the Sith pointed at her, muttering something to his companions. They nodded and the pointer walked _right at her_ while the other two continued dealing with stragglers. He was fifteen feet away. Ten feet. She really going to die, right here in this hallway, in the middle of all the other bodies, and there was nothing she could-

"Gwyn, are you crazy?" Liz appeared out of nowhere and started pulling hard on Gwyn's arm. "Move! Move!" Finally, Gwyn's feet came unstuck from the ground and the two girls tumbled into the nearest classroom. Gwyn locked the door with unsteady hands, then started trying to drag desks over to make a barricade. She was shaking so much that it was almost impossible. Liz tried to help, but before they had finished moving the first desk a glowing red blade appeared through the door and began slicing through their last line of defense. Gwyn smelled burning wood and her mind shut down. Liz dragged her under the teacher's desk and all Gwyn could bring herself to do was stuff her fist in her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She tried not to think about how she was about to die.

* * *

Jarik had been having trouble with his swapper ever since he first got it. It didn't want to turn on, its controls didn't respond immediately, it was slow to send him anywhere and when it did the side effects were more severe than they should've been. Since he was new, though, he was having trouble getting a replacement. He had to make do with cursing at his and hoping his request for new parts went through quickly.

That strategy was going quite well until his swapper stopped working entirely half-way through a jump, stranding him on the Other Side.

_No, nonononono. Please don't._ Jarik slapped the device on his wrist desperately, but the display just flashed once before blinking out entirely. "Shavit!"

That was when his hearing came back, and he heard screaming. And a very ominous humming. Jarik's head snapped up, and he managed to leap back just in time to avoid being decapitated by the Sith in front of him.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" he asked. The Sith ignored the question and took a step forward, still swinging its lightsaber. Ducking out of the way, Jarik unholstered his blaster and let off a few shots. To his amazement, the Sith only managed to block one of the bolts, and fell over with a smoking hole in its chest.

Jarik looked down at the dead Sith in disbelief. "C'mon, I know I'm good, but no one's that good. What's going—" Someone tackled him from the side, sending them both sprawling. Jarik turned his blaster on his attacker, but the man was already on his feet, firing at another Sith. This Sith was standing where Jarik had been a second ago, and had been apparently been coming up on him from behind. Jarik gulped and looked up at his savior, a middle-aged man with greying blonde hair and an archaic blaster. He wasn't a very good shot, but somehow, he had a blaster. That technology wasn't supposed to exist on the Other Side.

The Sith was too close for comfort, and getting closer, so Jarik shoved his thoughts away for the time being and rose to his feet. He started shooting, and between him and the older man the Sith hit the ground in just a few moments.

"What's wrong with them?" Jarik asked. "They shouldn't be this easy to kill."

To Jarik's surprise, the older man actually answered. "It's the Force." The man knelt next to the Sith and started rummaging through its robes, looking for something.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"There isn't any here." The man moved to the other Sith, not noticing Jarik's frown.

"What? But that doesn't make any sense." He flashed back to his training on the Other Side. "They never mentioned that. Why wouldn't they mention that?"

"Damn it!" The older man stood, ignoring Jarik. "Neither of them have it. Where'd the last one go?"

Jarik pointed at the door the last remaining Sith had just managed to cut through. "It went in there. But—"

The older man set off running down the hall and Jarik chased after him, grumbling under his breath.

* * *

Gwyn heard a piece of the door fall to the ground, and heard the Sith follow it into the room.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" the Sith said. "The little girl seems to be gone. What a pity." His tone was mocking and Gwyn bit down harder on her fist. She tasted blood, but couldn't feel any pain.

"Or, maybe..." His voice moved around the room, toward the desk where Gwyn and Liz were hiding. "...she's tried to hide. You can't hide, little girl. Not from me."

Gwyn could see the Sith's boots as he walked behind the desk, stopping just a few inches away. She whimpered, and suddenly the desk was gone. Vaguely, Gwyn realized that the Sith had knocked the desk over and Liz was now frantically scrambling away. She couldn't move, though. The Sith ignored the other girl. He was staring at Gwyn. His eyes were yellow. For some reason, that color was terrifying.

"Hello, Gwyneth Smith," he said, reaching for her. "I've been looking for you." Something in the pit of Gwyn's stomach began trying to force its way out her throat. She screamed.

* * *

Someone screamed. A girl. Jarik cursed as he and the older man entered the classroom to see the remaining Sith reaching for a girl who was half hidden by a fallen desk. The girl's scream abruptly cut off the Sith picked her up by the throat. She thrashed and pulled at his hand, but couldn't get him off.

"Gwyn!" the older man shouted. The Sith spun toward them, dropping the girl—Gwyn, presumably—in his surprise. She landed heavily, gasping for air.

"Step away from the girl and put your hands behind your head," Jarik said, pointing his blaster at the Sith's chest as he stepped further into the room. "Your buddies are dead, and you'll be joining them unless you do exactly what I say."

The Sith bared his teeth. "The girl has offended my master. She must die." Two red blades slid out of his lightsaber. "If you leave now, I will allow you to survive."

Jarik laughed harshly. "We both know that if you could kill me, you would've tried by now. You're weak here, without the Force. And that means that you _will_ leave her alone."

The Sith glared at Jarik, and he thought the Dark Jedi was about to surrender. Then he reached down and, before Jarik could get off a shot, roughly pulled the girl up to his chest so that she was facing Jarik. Jarik winced at the terrified expression on her face.

The girl's mouth fell open. "Dad?" she croaked.

"Don't worry, sweetie," the older man said. "We'll get you out of this." He lifted his blaster but didn't actually point it at the Sith. Jarik assumed he wasn't willing to risk hitting his daughter. "Everything's going to be fine."

Jarik snorted. "Really? How do you figure that?"

Ignoring them, the Sith raised his lightsaber in front of Gwyn. He released her with his opposite hand, keeping her trapped with the glowing blade. He reached for his lightsaber arm's wrist, drawing Jarik's attention there.

"What...how..." Jarik was lost for words as he stared at the swapper strapped to the Sith's wrist.

"No!" Gwyn's dad pushed past Jarik and charged the Sith. Jarik called for him to stop and lunged after him, but it was too late. The red blade swung and the older man fell to the ground. Gwyn screamed and the Sith laughed and Jarik reached them just as the Sith hit a button on the swapper. The three of them vanished, leaving Liz shivering alone in a corner of the room.

* * *

**A/N:** There will be actual KotOR characters in the next chapter. I promise. *hides from readers who expected someone they recognized* The next chapter is mostly written, it just needs another page or so of writing and a whole bunch of editing.

Loved it? Hated it? Push the big button below and tell me why!

**Edit:** I overhauled the chapter so that it's much better. I'll be working my way through the next two chapters before I post anything new (but I finally finished the rough draft of Chapter 4 :)


	2. Chapter 1: Familiar Faces

**A/N: My current plan is to update every other weekend. Amazingly, this chapter is on time. I want to thank everyone who followed or reviewed the prologue-it means a ton to me. The main cause of AU-ness in this fic is revealed in this chapter, so hopefully you'll all like it!**

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**Chapter One: Familiar Faces**

There was a flash and a crack and they were gone. Liz stared at the spot where they had been, escape forgotten. How...

Then the light and the noise came again, and just as quickly as the three had vanished, one figure reappeared. She was settled into a low, defensive crouch, holding a blue lightsaber in front of her. She was wearing some kind of armor, with thick plating covering her chest and dark leather everywhere else. Her eyes swept the room and she slowly relaxed, a bewildered look on her face. Then she looked down, and saw Mr. Smith. Her face crumpled with pain and Liz took a half-step forward, about to comfort her. However, the sight of her buzzing blade, which was so similar to the ones the attackers had used, stopped her. The strange girl fell to her knees and cradled Mr. Smith's head in her lap, tucking the handle of her blue blade—which had just retracted somehow—into her belt.

"Dad? Oh, Force..."

Mr. Smith stirred, muttering something.

"It's me, I'm here," the girl said, wiping her eyes. "Oh... God, oh my God."

Mr. Smith started to reach up to her, but was interrupted by a rasping cough from deep in his chest. His entire body shook with the force of his coughing, and his lips turned red as blood came up.

The girl looked up at Liz and the others, wild-eyed. "He needs help! What are you doing? Go get help!" Liz was frozen to the spot, but she heard someone else run out of the room. She felt strangely detached, staring at the man and the girl. Numb. As if it was a dream and any moment now she would wake up and laugh about how ridiculous it was that Gwyn... But that couldn't be Gwyn. Gwyn had vanished. And this girl was different. Thinner, differently dressed, more focused, more... hard. The expression on her face when she first appeared wasn't something Liz would forget any time soon. The girl had looked fierce and dangerous, but detached. Emotionless. Impersonal. That wasn't the Gwyn Smith that Liz had known.

"It's going to be okay, you'll be fine." The girl had pulled Mr. Smith completely into her lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding his hand tightly. "Force. Oh, Force."

Mr. Smith whispered something to the girl. Liz drifted closer, trying to hear.

Whatever he said, it worried the maybe-Gwyn. She pulled away a little to look at him, concern written on her tear-stained face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Again, Mr. Smith said something too quiet for Liz to hear. She took another step closer.

"Don't say that," said the girl, her voice cracking. "You're not going anywhere."

Mr. Smith shook his head. He started to say something—_still too quiet—_but dissolved into another coughing fit.

"Tell me what? Dad, stay with me. C'mon."

Liz could see Mr. Smith's lips moving, but no sound.

The girl was shaking her head, her tears dripping onto her father's shirt. "What are you talking about?"

Mr. Smith murmured something else, even more quietly.

"Stop saying that." The girl's voice was harsher than before. She pulled away a little, a horrified look on her face. Mr. Smith said something else, and her expression softened.

"Yes, you are." Her voice broke. Mr. Smith shook his head weakly, his grip on her hand tightening. His body convulsed, and his eyes drifted shut.

"Dad? Dad, no, stay with me." The girl's voice was frantic. "No, no, no-no-no. Listen to me. Focus on my voice."

A moment passed, and his limp hand slipped between the girl's fingers.

"No. No!" The girl clutched her father's body to herself, rocking back and forth silently. Liz snapped out of her trance. This was Gwyn. There were changes, and she wasn't the same girl Liz used to know, but it was still Gwyn and she had to do something. Crouching down next to Gwyn, Liz laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Gwyn?"

Gwyn flinched away from the touch and glared at Liz with red-rimmed eyes.

"What?" Her voice was flat, cold and emotionless.

"God, it is you," Liz said. "I—I'm so sorry, Gwyn."

"You're sorry" This time, Liz flinched as she heard the anger in the other girl's voice. "You're _sorry._ Well, doesn't that just make it all better, then. You just stood there and watched my dad _die_. You all just watched the Sith stab him and didn't do a damned thing to help him." Gwyn wasn't shouting, wasn't even raising her voice. It would've been better if she had. Gently laying her father on the ground, the girl rose to her feet, quivering with anger. Her lightsaber was back in her hand, blue and buzzing. Every line of her body showed her cold fury, directed toward her old friends. "And now, you're leaving before something happens that I might regret."

Liz ran. Just as she reached the door, there was a flash of light and a sound like before. Liz spun around, but Gwyn—and her father's body—were gone.

* * *

He almost didn't make it.

If the Sith had swapped a half second later, Jarik would've been stranded in the Other Place. As the familiar non-existence surrounded him, the knot in his stomach slowly loosened. He was going back. He wasn't stuck.

_If I come out in the past, though..._ His fear began to return just as reality kicked in again. His thoughts were forced out of his mind as the sudden sensation of sight overwhelmed him. He could see the Sith and Gwyn again, standing directly in front of him in a dreary grey hallway. A faint scent like rotting meat hit him next, and then the sound of the Sith stumbling back, dropping Gwyn as it clutched its head. Jarik's disorientation faded an instant later and he leaped back, pulling out his blaster and letting off several shots in one smooth movement. The Sith was a more experienced swapper than Jarik had thought, however—he had already recovered enough to block the bolts clumsily with his lightsaber. Still shooting, Jarik watched the Sith grin as his movements became more sure.

"Die," he hissed, raising a hand. Instantly, pressure began to build around Jarik's throat, closing it off. He struggled to breathe, but couldn't overcome the force choke. Stars filled his vision and darkness began to creep in on the edges. His blaster slipped out of his limp fingers...

And then the pressure was gone. Jarik crumpled to the floor, gasping and coughing. He dimly heard the distinctive sound of blaster bolts striking a lightsaber and forced his eyes open. A man in a blindingly orange jacket stood beside him, calmly shooting at the Dark Jedi with a blaster in either hand.

"Are you alright?" Blaster Guy asked, not taking his eyes off the Sith.

"Never better," Jarik choked out. "Thanks."

Blaster Guy shook his head. "Thank me later. Can you shoot straight yet?"

"Maybe." Jarik picked up his blaster and stood shakily, surveying the scene in front of him. Another man, this one with a vibroblade, was dueling the Sith. His sword moved with blinding speed—high, low, left, right, low again. The Sith blocked it all with contemptuous ease and sent the man stumbling backwards. Before the Sith could press his advantage, however, Blaster Guy let loose a rapid stream of blaster fire. As the Sith turned to deflect the bolts, the swordsman regained his feet and closed. Lightsaber and vibroblade met again in a shower of sparks.

Jarik shook his head. "You'll never keep this up."

"It's this, or die," Blaster Guy said. "If you think you'll miss, don't shoot."

"I don't miss," Jarik said, raising the blaster. He fired several shots at the Sith's chest, which it blocked hastily before turning to meet Vibroblade's next attack. Together they were able to keep the Sith off-balance, but it was clear that they couldn't keep it up forever. Vibroblade was clearly tiring, his blows and parries becoming slower and slower, while the Sith grew faster and stronger. The Sith was barely pausing to block their blaster shots now, and had clearly recovered from the swap.

Finally, Vibroblade stumbled, leaving himself open. The Sith easily parried the storm of blaster fire from Jarik and Blaster Guy and, with a nasty grin on his face, swung his lightsaber directly into Vibroblade's chest. However, Vibroblade didn't fall. Instead, the Sith's lightsaber flickered and went out. Vibroblade lunged forward, quickly recovering from his faked fall. His blade caught the Sith at the same time as one of Jarik's blaster bolts, and the Dark Jedi's body fell to the ground, smoking gently.

Jarik holstered his blaster, watching Vibroblade with new-found respect. _That... was impressive. Cortosis weave armor, obviously. It's the only thing that'll do that to a lightsaber. Didn't look like this was the first time he's done that, either. Too smoothly executed. __What kind of person is that prepared __to fight a Jedi?_ Jarik shook his head and looked away from the man. _Force, I hope I never have to fight him._ Then his eyes fell on Gwyn, and he moved over to her.

Gwyn was huddled against the wall a few feet away from where she had fallen. She looked up as Jarik approached, eyes red and rivers of mascara running down her face. He crouched in front of her.

"Hey," he said gently. "Are you okay?"

Her eyebrows went up. "Am I okay?" she repeated, her voice thick with emotion. "Really? I just watched a Sith stab my dad. I don't know who the hell you are. And that—" she nodded shakily toward the Sith's body, "—just tried to kill me or kidnap me or _something_ and I have no idea why."

Jarik nodded. "I'll take that as a no. My name's Jarik."

"Gwyn." Her voice trembled slightly and she scrubbed at her eyes furiously, not looking at him.

"Where did he come from?"

Jarik looked over his shoulder and saw orange. Wearily, he rose and turned to face Blaster Guy. "No idea. Nice job, by the way," he added, addressing Vibroblade. The other man was standing slightly behind Blaster Guy, wiping off his sword.

"Thank you," he said.

"But why did he attack?" Blaster Guy said. "What did he want with you?"

Jarik turned back to the first man. "I don't know."

"You don't know. So, a Sith just shows up and attacks you, and you have no idea why."

"Yep, pretty much," Jarik said.

Blaster Guy ran a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. "Look, Sith Lords don't just target random people. They're evil, not stupid. There had to be a reason for him to attack."

"Look, all I know is that it wanted her." Jarik motioned to Gwyn, who was still on the ground behind him. "He came after her, and I tried to stop him. Then you showed up."

"That's it?"

_No, not really,_ Jarik thought.

"Yes," he said.

Blaster Guy took a step forward to get a better look at Gwyn. "Who is she?"

"I'm Gwyn. Gwyn Smith." Jarik turned to see Gwyn staring at Blaster Guy with a look of terrified fascination on her face. "And you... you're Carth Onasi." She sounded awestruck.

_She's impressed by _him?_ Really?_ Jarik thought. _Why? Vibroblade did all the work._

Blaster Guy—Carth, apparently—knelt down to her level. "How do you know that?" he asked with an edge to his voice. "How?"

She flinched, and he sat back on his heels with a slightly repentant look on his face.

"You're a Republic war hero and the best pilot in the Navy," Gwyn said slowly, still staring at him. "Everyone knows who you are."

_Even the girl from another universe,_ Jarik thought. _This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder._

Carth looked at her blankly. "No, they don't. Not off Telos. And especially not on a Sith planet in the Outer Rim."

"I'm... I'm not from around here."

"Really?" Carth leaned forward again. "Then where are you from? And what do the Sith want with you?"

Gwyn ducked her head, but not before Jarik saw her eyes filling with tears again. "Will you cut it out?" he said. "She's just a kid."

Gwyn made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Don't—don't tell Mission that," she said.

"Mission? What mission?" Carth asked. Gwyn just shook her head.

Disgusted, Jarik pulled Carth away from the girl. "What is your problem?"

"My problem? You're the ones who brought a Sith down on us!"

"And I appreciate your help. But we aren't the Sith. C'mon Gwyn, let's go." Jarik put a hand on her arm and tried to pull her to her feet. Gwyn shook her head frantically and looked up at him, terrified.

"We can't go," she said. "We can't. I won't."

"Gwyn..." _Are all girls from the Other Side like this, or just her?_ "They don't want us here."

But she wasn't listening. Instead, she was watching Vibroblade. "Why aren't you hurt?" she said, more to herself than anyone else.

"Cortosis weave," he answered. "I always wear it, since the war started."

_So there's a war... a war with a lot of Jedi. That does exactly nothing to narrow down what time we swapped into, _Jarik thought.

Gwyn shook her head. "No... you should be hurt from—" She stopped abruptly. "Have—have you had any weird dreams? Nightmares?"

Vibroblade shrugged. "A few. But not as bad as—"

"Lieutenant!"

Vibroblade looked at Carth levelly. "They aren't Sith. Sir."

"That doesn't—"

"In fact, they're enemies of the Sith. That makes them friends in my book."

"Lieutenant..."

"And there's something wrong about the girl. She needs help. Sir."

Carth glowered at Vibroblade, then sighed. "For once, you might be right. About the girl, if nothing else." Turning back to Gwyn, he said, "If you want to stay here, then come on. I guess we can't really get in any more trouble than we're already in."

Jarik tried to pull Gwyn to her feet again, and this time she let him. The two of them followed Carth into a tiny apartment off the hallway. Vibroblade looked up and down the corridor before closing and locking the door behind them.

Gwyn stopped suddenly, staring wide-eyed at the far end of the room. Jarik leaned around her and followed her gaze to a narrow cot at the edge of the room. A woman with a heavily bandaged head was lying there, tossing and turning in her sleep.

"What—how—who...?" Gwyn stopped and shook her head, unable to speak.

"Who is she?" Jarik asked, watching Gwyn. She looked like she was about to fall over.

"Private Violet Rhayne," Carth said, also watching Gwyn. She moved toward Violet slowly.

"What happened?" Jarik asked.

"There wasn't enough room in the escape pod," Vibroblade said. "She wasn't secured properly and cracked her head on the door when we entered the atmosphere."

Carth made a frustrated noise, presumably at Vibroblade's openness with their story, and crossed over to Violet.

"Your ship was destroyed, then?" Jarik said.

"Yes," Carth said shortly. He laid a hand across Violet's forehead, then started draping wet cloths around her face. Slowly, she began to settle down, although she still whimpered occasionally in her sleep. As he worked, he asked, "Why do you care? Why the interest in us?"

Jarik shrugged. "I'm stranded here, too. And I've always liked the Republic."

"So, you just have nothing better to do."

"That, and I'm not leaving her." Jarik gestured to Gwyn, who was still staring at Violet. "Are you okay?" She didn't respond. "Gwyn!"

"She needs the doctor," Gwyn murmured.

"What was that?" Carth said.

"The doctor," Gwyn repeated more loudly, not taking her eyes off Violet's still form. "She needs the doctor."

Carth snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. "What doctor? This is a Sith planet, we can't just—just bring a doctor here."

"It was 'Z'... 'Z' something."

Jarik walked over to Gwyn and put a hand on her shoulder, starting to worry for her sanity. Getting pulled into a different universe unexpectedly would be hard enough without going through a Sith attack as well. She easily could've snapped.

"I think you need to take it easy," Jarik said. "You've been through a lot. Come on, let's sit down." He pulled gently on her arm, but she refused to move.

"Zelka, that's it! Zelka Forn. The doctor. He likes the Republic, he'll help." Gwyn's words were low and ran together, as though she had forgotten the others were there. She was still staring unblinkingly at Violet. "Go to him, he'll come. Make a house call. Don't bring the assistant, he likes the Exchange. But Zelka's good, Zelka'll help..."

Jarik was definitely concerned now. "Come on," he said, pulling Gwyn toward an empty cot. She resisted at first, but then allowed him to move her. She perched on the edge of the cot, and her eyes began to flick from Violet's cot to Vibroblade then back, over and over.

"What's wrong with her?" Carth asked. Jarik was surprised to hear genuine concern in his voice.

"I think she's in shock." Jarik snorted, "She could use a doctor too."

"Zelka. Zelka Forn." Gwyn grabbed Jarik's shoulder and fixed her gaze on him. "Find Zelka," she begged. "She needs him. I need to know. Bring him. Please." She released him and slid backwards on the cot, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in them. She began to rock slowly back and forth.

"Gwyn..." Jarik looked at her helplessly. He was trained for combat, diplomacy, basic medical aid, swapping, repair, hacking, and countless other, more obscure, fields. But he'd never been prepared for a situation quite like this one. "Look." He sat down on the cot next to her. "Are you sure that this... Zelka person is... around... anymore?" _Challenging her delusions might hurt her. But she doesn't look too good right now, anyway._

"Yes." Her voice was muffled by her knees. "He's always there. No matter what."

"But how can you know that?" Jarik asked. _You're from a different universe._

She laughed unpleasantly. "George Lucas... blame George Lucas. And Bioware."

Jarik froze. He'd never spent more than a few seconds in the Other Place before, and he'd never bothered to find out exactly what time he cam out in. They told him it wouldn't ever matter.

_Obviously, they were wrong, _he thought. _She's from Lucas' time. Shavit. Like things weren't complicated enough already. Now I _really_ need to know when we are. Shavit._

Jarik stood abruptly. "Right. Well, I'm going to look for him." Carth noticed his sudden change of tone and looked at Jarik strangely.

"Even if he exists, how would you find him?"

"There's a very, very low chance that he isn't real," Jarik said. "And I can get a local to give me directions." Turning back to Gwyn, he said, "I'll find him. Don't worry." She didn't respond.

"I'll go with you." Jarik turned to see Vibroblade still standing in the door. "There's Sith everywhere. You might need help. Besides," he added, "I don't think Vi'll last much longer without serious help."

"And if I told you to stay here?" Carth said. "What then?"

"I'd go anyway," Vibroblade told him. "Vi could be a huge asset, but she's a liability as long as she's like this." He smiled. "Besides, you won't tell me to stay. You want her to get help as much as I do, if for different reasons."

Carth's expression hardened throughout Vibroblade's speech, but he nodded once. "Don't come back until you find him, or you're sure he's not real."

Vibroblade gave Carth a mocking salute. "Yes, sir," he said, then turned to Jarik. "Let's go."

"Just a minute." Jarik looked back at Carth. "Don't let anything happen to her."

"I wasn't planning to."

"I mean it. She's been through too much already." _And if she gets out into the rest of the world... that can't happen. Not if she's from Lucas' time. But I need to know if she's right about this. Force, I hope she isn't._

Carth's face softened as he glanced back at Gwyn, still huddled on the cot. "I understand. Don't worry, I'll keep her safe."

Jarik nodded sharply, then turned to Vibroblade. "Let's go."

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**Thoughts? Questions? Opinions? Predictions? Review and tell me! It'll increase the odds of the next update being on time(:**


	3. Chapter 2: Zelka Forn

**I own nothing.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Zelka Forn**

She was in KotOR. A video game. She was _in_ a Star Wars video game. Her dad was dead. She'd watched him die, watched a freaking Sith Lord kill him. That wasn't possible. It obviously couldn't happen. Except it had. The Sith had touched her, she'd felt him, she knew he was real. But dreams felt real. So she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. It was very, very possible that she was dreaming. Wasn't it?

_I'm not insane._ She felt insane, though. Something in her head was... different. Very, very different. It was almost like she'd been blind her entire life, but as soon as they appeared in the game, she could _see_. Even when her eyes were closed, she could _feel_ that the others were still there.

She had felt it when the Sith died. One second he was there, and the next he wasn't. She could see his body, but he was gone. His body was empty—she couldn't feel it, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her dad was dead because of the Sith. He had killed her dad. But now he was just _gone_, and it left her feeling empty too. At least she hadn't had to feel her father disappear, hadn't had to feel him vanish like that.

But he was still gone. No longer on this earth. Or rather, not on _that_ earth. She wasn't on Earth anymore either. Unless she was just dreaming. But she'd never had a dream like this. It felt so real, and she felt so strange. But it couldn't be real. She couldn't _actually_ be in a video game. She couldn't have met Carth Onasi. Carth Onasi wasn't real. But she could feel him. Paranoia and fear and anger and concern and worry and other things she couldn't quite name were pouring off him in waves. It amazed her that he could feel all that and still function. She couldn't. She wasn't. But she also had her own emotions to deal with. And those of the two Revans.

Oh God, the Revans.

There were two Revans. Two of them. Male and female. Canon and non-canon. Uninjured and injured. Non-canon and canon. She could feel them both. He was calm and focused, even when he was fighting for his life. Fem-Revan was faint, but even unconscious she flickered from one emotion to another even faster than Carth. Smugness. Euphoria. Pain. Fear. Hatred. Anger. Confusion. Always changing, never constant. Feeling her was like staring at a strobe light.

And then there was Jarik. He was different. She could feel his presence, could tell he was there, but that was it. It was like there was a slippery wall around him, gently diverting her to one of the others when she switched her attention to him. She wished they would all put up walls like that. Maybe then her head would stop hurting.

But, in a way, they did all have walls. They were different from Jarik's—his was on his end somehow, concealing himself. The others' walls seemed more like she was just losing sight of the person. If she tried to focus on any of them, to feel them exclusively, that one would fade. Slip away. It was like she could see, but only with her peripheral vision—if she turned so she was facing something directly, it disappeared.

And there were _two Revans_. Two. If something that basic, that integral to the game was wrong, what else was off? They were on Taris now, what if the bombing started early? _I don't want to die_. And if the Revans died, Malak would win. That couldn't happen. The good guys had to win. She had to tell them... but they'd think she was insane. It was possible. She could be insane.

_No. I'm not insane. I'm _not_ insane._ She realized dimly that she was rocking back and forth, could feel their concern for her radiating off them, even as Jarik and male Revan started to fade.

_I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane, I'm not..._

* * *

Carth watched Gwyn as her rocking increased in speed and she began to cry quietly. The sight pulled at his heart like not much could anymore. He quietly crossed the room and sat down next to her on the cot, draping an arm around her shoulders. She froze for a moment, then turned into his chest. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she cried into his shoulder while he held her, his mind drifting far away as he thought about people who were long since dead.

* * *

Finding someone who knew Zelka Forn was laughably easy. The janitor gave them directions before they even left the apartment complex. The man had been more worried about the cleanliness of his floors than their questions, but they'd eventually gotten the answers they needed out of him. Now they were out on the street, making their way to the doctor's office.

The streets were almost empty. A few people hurried along, carefully avoiding contact with each other. Sith troopers stalked back and forth in gold-plated armor, clearly trying to look intimidating. They failed miserably, but that wasn't completely their fault. _If someone gave them some decent training, they might actually be dangerous._

"I'm Jarik Thorne, by the way," the boy said, interrupting his companion's thoughts. "I just realized, I didn't introduce myself earlier."

"They call me the Harbinger."

The boy snorted. "Really? The Harbinger of what?"

"Depends on who's paying." The Harbinger kept his gaze carefully neutral as another Sith walked by. His hand unconsciously fell to the hilt of his vibroblade, and he picked his next words carefully. "Given who that is right now, I'm the champion of truth, justice, and the light side."

The boy laughed. "You're not a soldier then." It wasn't a question, so the Harbinger didn't respond. "Is that why Carth doesn't like you? Because he knows your loyalty is questionable?"

The Harbinger snorted. _Kid's got guts, I'll give him that._ "Could be," he said. "But he doesn't have anything to worry about."

Jarik raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No. I've been paid for the next two months." Jarik looked a bit disbelieving, and the Harbinger continued. "I've been paid for the next two months. It's bad for business to betray an employer. Word gets around, and no one else wants to hire. For now, I'm as loyal as he is."

"And after that?"

The Harbinger shrugged. "After that, anything's possible."

They continued on in silence for a moment. Then Jarik said, "I know this is a weird question, but... well, what year is it?"

Chuckling, the Harbinger said, "Don't worry, kid. I've heard weirder. It's 444."

The boy nodded slowly, his face unreadable. The Harbinger watched him, unable to keep an incredulous grin off his face.

"Come on, you can't ask a question like that and not tell the story behind it. Out with it."

Jarik looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Uh, well... you see, there was this... thing, that happened, and... uh..."

"Yes?" The Harbinger's grin was fading. _If he's just as nuts as the girl..._

"Oh look, here we are." Jarik practically ran into the doctor's office. The Harbinger followed with a ghost of a smile at the timing of their arrival. _But I _will_ get an answer._

A young man was standing by the door, openly staring at them. The Harbinger glared back and he looked away quickly. Snorting, the Harbinger turned to the only other person in the surprisingly small room. The bald human male, who was obviously starting to get on in years, had already greeted Jarik.

"I see from your appearances that you're off-worlders. Still, you're welcome here. I'll not have it said that Zelka Forn refused to help somebody just because they weren't a citizen of Taris."

"You're Zelka Forn, then?" Jarik asked, at the same time as the Harbinger said, "How can you tell we're from off-world?"

Forn chuckled. "Yes, I'm Zelka. And most citizens don't walk around armed and armored."

The Harbinger shrugged. Blending in would be an advantage, but being ready for anything was more important.

"Is this some kind of hospital, or what?" Jarik asked.

"It is. My resources have been quite limited since the Sith quarantined the planet, but—"

Jarik interrupted. "Wait. The planet's under quarantine?"

_He didn't know that? _the Harbinger thought. Forn was surprised as well, and began explaining to the boy. The Harbinger half-listened as he circled the room slowly. For a hospital, it was tiny—just one small room with a few cots along a wall and a table covered with medical supplies in the middle of the room.

As the Harbinger approached what he'd thought was the side wall, he realized it was a sliding door. Forn was standing right there, but he had a gnawing feeling that he needed to see whatever was on the other side. And the girl had said that he could be trusted, though he wasn't sure how much stock he put in anything she said.

_Vi needs his help—breaking into part of his office isn't going to incline him to do us any favors_, his brain told him. His instincts, on the other hand, were telling him to open the damn thing. After moment of hesitation, the Harbinger slipped a computer spike out of his belt and into the door's terminal. It was a weak lock, and the door slid open in a matter of seconds.

The room beyond was easily as large as the entry room. Bacta tanks lined the walls, but only the two tanks farthest from the door were occupied.

"What are you doing? Don't go in there! That door is for employees only!" Forn exclaimed, racing over to the terminal. He began pushing buttons, but the Harbinger stepped into the room before the doctor could close it off.

"I recognize these men," he growled, turning back to face the doctor. "They're Republic soldiers. What do you want with them?" His hand dropped to the hilt of his vibroblade.

"You... you recognize them? But how? Unless..." Forn looked at him hopefully. "Unless you're friends of the Republic?"

"We are," Jarik said, stepping into the room. "My friend here is a Republic soldier. Or something like that."

"Now. Tell us what's going on here." The Harbinger's voice cracked like a whip, and Forn flinched.

"I... I can explain all this, don't worry. I'm trying to help. Really." Forn looked from Jarik to the Harbinger, and apparently decided Jarik looked less threatening, because he explained to the boy. "After the space battle overhead, people started secretly bringing these Republic soldiers who'd crash landed to me. I had to take them in."

"After the battle?" Jarik asked. The Harbinger could practically see gears turning in the boy's head. _He didn't know about the battle either? It should've been visible from the planet. Where is this kid from?_

"That's right," the doctor said. "Their injuries are terrible, most won't survive. But at least they're hidden from the Sith."

"For that, you have my thanks," the Harbinger said, removing his hand from his weapon's hilt. "Force knows what would've happened if the Sith found them."

Zelka nodded, obviously relieved that they agreed with what he'd done. "It's the least I could do."

"And we appreciate it," Jarik said, putting a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "But if you want to do more, you can."

To the doctor's credit, he didn't hesitate at all. "What do you need?"

"A friend of mine, another soldier, was hurt when we crashed here," the Harbinger said. "She's been unconscious since yesterday."

"And a friend of mine is..." Jarik trailed off. "She's, well... she might be in shock. But I think there's more to it than that."

Zelka nodded. "Where are these friends of yours?"

"We'll take you to them," the boy said, taking a step toward the door. "They're in an apartment over that way." He gestured vaguely towards the way they had come.

"Let me grab a few things I might need," Zelka said, but the Harbinger stopped him with a hand.

"We crashed without any credits," he said. "We can't pay you."

Zelka shook his head. "Pay me by surviving and not getting caught." His face darkened. "And by sticking it to those Sith bastards whenever you can."

A grin spread over the Harbinger's face as he released the doctor. "Oh, don't worry. We will."

* * *

Carth Onasi. She was crying on Carth Onasi. Or, more specifically, on Carth Onasi's jacket. She was crying on The Jacket. That couldn't be good for the leather. And this couldn't be helpful for making a good first impression.

Now that Jarik and male Revan were gone, her mind was a little less crowded. Fem-Revan—no, her name was Violet. She had to get used to that. Slipping up in front of them would be dangerous—presence wasn't as strong as the others', presumably because she was unconscious. Carth broadcasted emotions like a radio, but that was easier to tune him out now that the others were gone. And now that she was getting to cry on The Jacket.

Fan-girling over a middle-aged soldier who was destined to fall in love with a possibly former Sith Lord probably wasn't the best way to react to the situation. At this point, she didn't care. He was letting her cry without trying to make her stop, and she couldn't stop. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. Not when her head hurt like hell and she might be going insane.

She sensed them before they opened the door. Carth sat up a little straighter and she buried her face in The Jacket, trying to hide how much she'd been crying.

"You found him." Carth sounded amazed.

"Yup," said Jarik's voice. "Allow me to introduce the one and only Dr. Zelka Forn. Doc, meet Carth, Gwyn, and Violet."

The game was right. He existed. So the world wasn't totally wrong, not with the little things. Just in the big stuff that she actually cared about, like who Revan was.

She could feel a new presence—Zelka, presumably—in addition to Jarik and male Revan. Zelka felt strangely dark, certainly darker than in the game. But they weren't in the game now. Because this was real. Or she was insane. Or maybe both.

"There's some bruising, but I don't think she's concussed, and the head wound actually isn't that bad," She assumed it was Zelka talking, although she couldn't remember what his voice was supposed to—Carth and Bastila and Jolee and the other son the Ebon Hawk were the only voices she remembered. Carth's was right, so she assumed the others would be too. Unless that was part of the game that was wrong. But at least Carth's was the same. She loved Carth's voice. "I'll clean it and re-bandage it, and you should put kolto on it every so often until it scabs over. She—what did you say her name was?"

"We didn't." Carth's chest vibrated as he talked.

"I did." She recognized male Revan's voice. "It's Violet."

"Right. Violet." Zelka continued. "Well, Violet should wake up today or tomorrow. Now. What do we have here?"

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, leaning more heavily on Carth.

"It's okay, he won't hurt you." Carth's voice was calm, reassuring. And he was right. She had told them to get Zelka, after all. But she didn't want to move away from Carth. She could feel the others, now that they were back, but his overwhelming emotions were drowning out the others somewhat. She didn't want to lose that. Not now. Not ever.

But they took the choice away from her. Someone was pulling her away from Carth, and he was helping them. She fought against them, keeping her eyes tightly shut. She already knew they were there, she didn't have to see them too. It was disorienting to see them. She knew what they truly looked like, on the inside, and the outside didn't necessarily match. No need to look.

"I see what you meant." Zelka sounded more compassionate than before. But his actions didn't match his voice because he was pulling her away from Carth and it was getting easier to feel the anger deep inside him and the total dispassion in male Revan and she was still sliding off Jarik and—

A brief pain interrupted her thoughts as something pierced her arm.

"Sleep now. You'll be fine," Zelka said.

They were fading. For one short, wonderful moment, she couldn't feel them anymore. Then everything was gone.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the late update. The homecoming dance was last weekend, and I didn't have a chance to finish editing this. There's a pretty good chance that the next update will also be in three weeks instead of two, because of Thanksgiving. But I'll try very hard not to let that happen.  
**

**So, what do y'all think of the two Revans? Any guesses yet as to which is real, or where this is gonna go?  
**


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